


The Death of a Breadroll

by MabelOverture



Category: Fullmetal Alchemist - All Media Types
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, Humor, kind of, not full of angst!, what a surprise
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-26
Updated: 2018-02-26
Packaged: 2019-03-24 06:37:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13805547
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MabelOverture/pseuds/MabelOverture
Summary: Roy experiences a pang of jealousy at a man's innocent gaze towards Riza Hawkeye





	The Death of a Breadroll

**Author's Note:**

> Just a short, light little thing!

He watched her with his lips tight together, his thumb tapping methodically against the table. Couldn't she move through the mess hall line any faster?

She'd told him she would take her break at the same time as he, so they could have more time to go over Interim Cadet Forms before they were due at the end of the day, but she'd forgotten them halfway down the hall and had to turn back, telling him to go on ahead.

Within the moment she walked into the room, the air fresh with the aroma of steamed vegetables and lazily cooked chicken, a pair of eyes locked onto her. And oh no, they were not his own, not, they belonged to some high cheek-boned hilltop sergeant whom Roy had never seen before, and quite frankly, despite never even speaking to the man, didn't rather much like.

The sergeant, seated with a group of six at a circular table, just so happened to be sitting in the chair facing the mess hall entrance, and Sir Beady Eye was quite obviously grabbed by the attention of her presence.

Mustang sat back in his own chair, turning his head slyly to the left, to better glare at him without appearing so obvious. The man appeared young, no older than Hawkeye herself, and had short, loose yellow hair and a defined face that called to be broken. Even from where Roy himself sat, he could see the sleeves of his uniform tight against his stupidly impressive muscles. Roy rolled his eyes - quite obviously - and turned back to hunch over his food.

The man's expression wasn't greedy or malicious or even anything beyond what would be considered average, but still, that interested look in his eye as his gaze rolled over the lieutenant made Roy want to light the man's lunch on fire.

A tray appearing suddenly before him snapped him out of his fiery daydream.

"Why are you staring at your bread roll like that, Colonel?"

He looked up at her quizzical face, a few blonde flyaways noticeable in the buzzy tungsten lights stapled into the ceiling above. His tight face fell and he chuckled as he saw his bread roll for the first time, forgetting it was even on his tray at all. He plucked it up and turned it over.

"I, uh, was contemplating its edibility."

Her tray scratched quietly as she slid it forward to sit down across from him. She reached to tear off the tops of two sugar packets.

"You looked like you were contemplating its murder."

She poured the sugar into the ceramic mug, stirring and taking a test sip. Roy dared a glance over to the circular table several yards away.

Sergeant Whatever-The-Fuck's eyes went directly to Hawkeye's form, to the sudden movement of Roy's turned head and their eyes locked.

Quicker than a pen could drop, so quick the colonel thought the man may have gotten whiplash, the sergeant sat up straight as an arrow and whipped his gaze away, suddenly hyper interested in the fine print on the top of his canned carrots. Roy smiled, quite pleased with himself and with the rush of red flush that came over the man's face. Were he a betting man, the Colonel garnered that that pair of eyes wouldn't be looking over there again.

Happy with the outcome of her coffee, Riza again lifted it to her lips and took a full sip. The mug clunked as it was set down, and she turned to ruffle around the papers in the folder she'd brought. She sniffed once casually as she sifted through them, her other hand mindlessly pushing around the pile of potatoes on her tray. She stabbed a piece and lifted it to her mouth, her eyes still on the papers, before she sensed him staring at her and she froze, her eyes flicking to meet him.

"What?" she asked, the fork still raised. He had to stop himself from smiling; she looked...well, she looked rather cute like that, he was surprised to admit. Almost vulnerable in a way she rarely was. He shrugged.

"I suppose you're just kind of nice to look at sometimes."

She looked even cuter then, her expression quite clearly thrown and taken aback. He didn't know why he said it, he never said any such things to her. But, he recognized, it was true, and he didn't really regret letting it slip. She  _was_  nice to look at, even The Dip a few tables over had had the same thought.

The difference, however, was that that man didn't even know her. He probably didn't know her first name, didn't know what she'd been through, didn't know her favorite tea and probably didn't care to.

"Well," recovered Hawkeye as she calmly put her fork down and picked up the coffee. "You're rather sour looking," she took a sip, giving him an almost teasing look, and he felt something strange blossom in his chest, "So I suggest you put all your focus on that bread roll."


End file.
